Broken Ties
by ZahraQ
Summary: A one-shot about the bonding between two people who will never have their family as it was back, for two very different reason. Mr. Pevensie and Edmund's friend talk one night and through their conversation, Edmund learns a new lesson.


A one-shot about the bonding between two people who will never have their family as it was back, for two very different reason. Mr. Pevensie and Edmund's friend talk one night and through their conversation, Edmund learns a new lesson.

When Mr. Pevensie returned from the war, he decided that his children needed a little vacation.

"They," he said one night to his wife, "seem different, almost withdrawn. War does strange things to children but I will not let my kids' happiness be ruined. I want to take them to a vacation to a sea-side village."

Roger Hilton, the younger Pevensie son's best friend was also invited because Mr. Hilton had not been as lucky as Mr. Pevensie. Mrs. Pevensie, to cheer up Mrs. Hilton, invited her to come and stay at her house while the children were away.

Everything was settled and two weeks after Mr. Pevensie's return, the six people boarded the train. The train journey was quiet and uneventful. Roger stared out the window, Mr. Pevensie tried in vain to get all the children talking to each other and the four Pevensie children held silent conversation through their smiles and eyes.

They walked from station to the house of Mrs. Welleby, Mr. Pevensie's old nurse. She was now a plump, lively old woman who never let an opportunity to smile pass by. The first thing she said to Mr. Pevensie was words of scolding about not taking care of himself when she saw that he was walking with a small limp.

Peter, Edmund and Roger carried the luggage inside and the girls carried the smaller bags. Mr. Pevensie sat for a while with the woman who had tended to him when he was a baby. She complimented him on how well brought up his children were. Mr. Pevensie was pleased but he gave the credit to where it was due.

"It is all the old Professor Kirke's doing." He said with a smile that was both proud as well as sad.

Mrs Welleby said that she could not set up the rooms at such a short notice so, for a day or two, Mr. Pevensie, Roger, Peter and Edmund would have to stay in one room. It was not a problem to anyone and that night, after a delicious supper, they went to sleep.

Peter was the first one to sleep. Being a King had taught him to never mess with his sleeping habits; they could get strained at any moment. It seemed that Mr. Pevensie and Roger were also asleep but Edmund, being the night owl that he was, lay wide-awake in his bed.

He strained his ears to hear something that could tell him he was still in his beloved home, Narnia. Any hint of wild music of fauns and dryads, any splashing and giggle of naiads, any cry of bats, anything would have pleased him. But he heard none of that. Instead, he heard a soft sniffle coming from the bed beside him.

For a moment, he thought that his brother was crying because of some nightmare but then dismissed that thought. When Peter saw a nightmare, he would instantly wake up. Edmund listened harder. There, it was again, a soft sniffle. It seemed that it was coming from the other side of his bed. Roger? He was about to get up and investigate but someone beat him to that.

"Roger?" Mr. Pevensie softly enquired, getting up from his bed. Edmund saw him walk up to Roger's bed and sit on its edge. "Son, say something."

There only reply was the sniffles turning to sobs. Then after a few minutes, a voice almost strangled with sobs and grief asked, "Why?"

That one word made Edmund realised how much his friend had been suffering while he and his siblings kept only to themselves, thinking that Roger was just a child and would eventually get over the grief. He mentally smacked himself and though he knew that eavesdropping on someone was wrong, he listened.

Before Mr. Pevensie could answer, Roger spoke again. "Why did he leave us when he knew we needed him?"

Mr. Pevensie knew that at the moment Roger did not need answers; he needed to speak. However, Mr. Pevensie was aware that Roger was a tight-lipped person who would not easily share his troubles with anyone else. It would take constant support to make him speak and then to ease up his awkwardness later, Mr. Pevensie will have to share a bit of his feelings too.

"Speak, son," He gently rubbed Roger's back as the boy clung to his shirt. "Say everything. Don't keep anything inside."

"Mum...she's...she's very upset. When those officers came to inform us, Mum did not shed a single drop of tear just for my sake. But later that night, I heard her wailing and crying in the bathroom. She is sad but she puts on a brave facade for me. I don't like it; it makes me feel I should do the same when I can't."

Here he was crying so much that Mr. Pevensie pulled him up and held him in a tight embrace. Roger's voice was muffled by Mr. Pevensie's chest but the boy did not bother. He was being hugged by Mr. Pevensie just as he so much wanted to be hugged by his own father. For Mr. Pevensie, he was hugging the child and giving him the fatherly love his own children did not seem to need.

Roger once again continued. "Dad's friend came and gave us two notes that were found clutched in his hands when his body was recovered. One was addressed to mummy and the other to me. Mummy was so upset after reading hers that she could not do anything but sit on her bed and stare at the half torn note."

When Roger once again went quiet, Mr. Pevensie gently urged him on, "What was in yours?"

Roger did not say anything, he just unclenched his right fist that he was up until now had tightly pressed against his chest. There was a small, crumbled piece of paper. It was a bit brown because of the bloodstains on it and a barely legible, hasty message was scribbled with dirt:

'I love you Roger, I promise, I tried. I'm so sorry I could not tell you the end of the story."

The first part of the message made Mr. Pevensie's mind flash back to the time when he too, finding himself close to death had written such messages to his family. Luckily, these messages never made it to his family and the day he returned home, he had tossed all these dirty bits of paper into the fire burning brightly in his parlour. The second part, however, confused him. 'Story?' he asked himself, not realising that he had spoken aloud.

Roger's voice was strained when he answered. "I had a little fever and Dad was telling me a story about a hare and tortoise when he was informed that he had been enlisted. Everyone was so worried by that that he never did get the chance to complete the story. The day he left for the war, he promised me that he would come back and tell it to me. He didn't."

Mr. Pevensie's throat clenched but he decided that he had to complete the task his friend had set out to do but had been unsuccessful in doing. "Till where had he told you the story?"

"The place where the hare sees that he was way ahead than the tortoise."

For Roger the story continued from their only, not in his father's voice but a voice that contained the same amount of love and affection. Roger as well as Edmund listened aptly as Mr. Pevensie told the end of the story.

"...and so, we should never get over-confident." He finished it. There was a moment of complete silence following his words. Peter's quiet and even breaths were the loudest thing in the room.

Then came a small, quiet 'thank you' from the boy clinging to Mr. Pevensie.

The elder man knew that Roger had still more to vent, So far, he was only telling his mother's reaction to the news. He had to get his own feelings off his chest too.

"Roger, tell me, everything." Mr. Pevensie firmly said in his gentle voice. His voice was full of compassion but it was a tone that broke no arguments.

Edmund's chest became heavier and heavier with guilt as he listened to his friends sufferings. He knew that now he was older than his friends were but instead of leaving Roger to mourn alone, he should have used his wisdom to help his friend.

"I was so scared...I missed him...everything in the house reminded me of him..."

If the phrases like these made Edmund silently weep in guilt, he nearly slapped himself when he heard the next one.

Roger slowly whispered, "I even contemplated suicide."

Edmund knew that when these thoughts started crossing a person's mind, help had to be eminent. He mentally resolved to take care of his friend from now on.

Mr. Pevensie also inhaled quickly before Roger continued, "But I didn't. I knew Mum would be devastated if I did that. However, sometimes I still think about it. I even cut myself now and then but it does not help. Nothing does."

"Have you ever tried to talk to someone about it?" Mr. Pevensie asked in a tight voice. The concept of self-hurt and such things was something he had hated right from the beginning.

"I tried to talk to Pete." Roger did not reveal that Peter had not been very helpful. Edmund knew that Peter himself was disturbed when Roger had approached him. Therefore, he did not judge his brother at his inability to help Roger.

Mr. Pevensie also knew that talking to Peter would have been unhelpful though he thought so because in his opinion Peter himself was a child.

"What would have Dad done if he found out that I was doing all this?" Roger tentatively asked.

Mr. Pevensie sighed and contemplated on whether he should just tell him the truth or not. Then he decided to say the truth. "I suppose he would have first slapped you once and then talked to you about it. However, the slapping part would have been avoided if you had spoken up yourself."

"You mean that Dad wouldn't have been disappointed?" Roger's hopeful question threw Mr. Pevensie in a fix. He could not understand the manner in which Roger regarded the question. Was it that since his father would not have been disappointed in him, he could continue with it? Alternatively, was it that he was so bad to be a disappointment to his deceased father?

He thought out his answer well and then said. "He would have been unhappy and certainly not pleased. This is not something your or anyone's father would want their child to do. However, if you decided and did your very best to give up this habit, you would be forgiven."

Roger was quiet and Mr. Pevensie could sense awkwardness in the boy's posture. It was a cue that for tonight, Roger's talking was over. It was time for him to say something about his own problem so that the boy would be at ease knowing that he was not imposing his grief on someone else.

"You know" Mr. Pevensie began, "When I was away for the war, I missed you too. While digging up trenches, or killing enemy soldiers or such, all I could think was when I would be home again."

He stopped and gauged Roger's reaction to it, making sure he had not upset the boy. Roger was listening and judging by the expression on his face, Mr. Pevensie guessed that he wanted to

"I made friends there too. Twenty-nine of us had formed a strange bond among us. Once when our camp was under attack, we fought back but our ammunitions were exhausted soon. We waited amongst the bombings and continuous gunshots for the reinforcements to arrive. All twenty-nine of us were fighting in a row. As we waited, one of us named William brought out a journal and a pen. He tore twenty-nine sheets from it and handed one to each. It was a crazy thing to do but one after the other, each one sat down and wrote ten lines about his feelings. Some of us were reluctant to do that. It was dangerous for even one of us to let our guard down but we also knew that until help arrived, we could do nothing. So, we did that and to be honest, it helped us. Ever since, this is what we all did whenever we were in a perilous state. These papers were kept in a pocket George, a fellow soldier, sewed in our uniform. It was agreed that if any of us died, these letters would be taken from our person and sent to our family."

Roger was quiet as he listened to Mr. Pevensie talk about the war. Though it was not so, he could easily imagine his own father to be one of those twenty-nine soldier.

"Did anyone's..." Roger had no need to complete his sentence.

"Yes, Michael's notes were sent to his family." Mr. Pevensie said then smiled remembering a bittersweet memory. "How his notes reached us after his death is a different and a much more interesting story."

Roger eyes were bright and it was obvious that he wanted to hear it. However, Mr. Pevensie shook his head. "I'll tell it some other time. It's time to go and sleep now."

As Mr. Pevensie got up and went back to his bed, Edmund heard Roger whisper, "Do you think Dad is missing his home?"

That night, listening to his father and friend's conversation Edmund had realised many of his mistakes. He had been so swallowed in his own grief of losing his home that he had not noticed the suffering of the people around him. However, when Mr. Pevensie answered Roger's question, he learned that no matter how much he had grown up in Narnia, there was still something new to learn. A lesson he had never learned even after seeing so much war in Narnia, he learned it through his father's loving words.

"The one who are no more and cannot celebrate our victory with us are in a better place, celebrating our victory with Him."

Thank you MCH and elijahlover for giving me the ideas. I mixed both your ideas but since the bonding shown in this was not between the Pevensies I wrote it separately.

Do tell me what you all think!

ZQ


End file.
